


The Center Holds

by Viva Ink (orphan_account)



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Character Analysis, Friendship, Gen, I just want them to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8028328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Viva%20Ink
Summary: The ‘safe kid’ that used to be wary of the world at large comes to terms with the fact that he’s become terrified not of just how large the universe can be, but how frighteningly small.





	The Center Holds

_**The Center Holds** _

 

Marco had never been _afraid_ of the world, per se. He’d just been overly aware of it, of the dangers that didn’t so much ‘threaten’ as they did allow themselves to be known, understood. Instead of boldly tempting fate with daring feats of disregard, he’d been the one called upon to play it safe; he would triple check for cars before crossing the street, never approach even a mild jog when carrying scissors, and always made certain his shoes were tied before daring a trip on an escalator. When it came to socializing, he found comfort near the middle of the social rungs, far too low to be beholden to any sort of expectations, but not so far from the top that he could be stepped on and crushed by the weight of his peers.

Star was different. She approached everything with reckless abandon, ignored vulnerability as if it didn’t concern her. She looked at the world’s harsh, sharp edges, and decided they were meant only for carving a path forward.

At first he’d been irritated by it, by her careless front and relentless need to dismantle the boundaries given to her. He’d spent so long coloring inside the lines and taking care to know the rules that he’d initially been offended by her lack of concern. Then, slowly, her seeming transgressions started to come off as endearing fights against destiny, against traditions set in stone. If there was such a thing as fate, then she would need to be dragged into it, heels planted in the dirt and teeth set. If danger was ever a factor, then she didn’t cower from it, but challenged it…Inch by inch, she’d shown him that holding ground wasn’t nearly as important as exploring it.

It’d only been when he’d stopped, analyzed, that he’d realized _why_ Star could move through her life without a moment’s hesitation, unconcerned and anxious to face the next disaster – the world might’ve been dangerous, but then…so was she. Seemingly bottomless pools of power fueled her wand, and, in turn, her spirit. For all the trouble she could fling herself into, there had never seemed to be a real danger…there was no threat she couldn’t bargain, blast, or bludgeon her way out of.  What would be roadblocks for anyone else were just…hassles. Minor obstacles. So trivial in nature that even the most gruesome of villains could never do more than merely inconvenience her.

And somewhere along the way, Marco had gone and mistaken her power for his own.  He’d gone on so many adventures with her, flying by the seat of his pants armed with only his meager martial arts…and the aid of a girl who could effortlessly wipe out cities with an onslaught of puppies and mint-colored clouds. There never was an opposition, a chance they’d lose, after all – for the first time in his life, Marco had come to believe that, whatever evil and threat there was, it didn’t apply to him when Star was around. After all, Star was much more proficient at putting herself in jeopardy than anyone who’d actually _tried_ to hurt her.

Until, of course, Toffee. The one mastermind who’d managed to bring Start to her knees, the one villain to ever truly have an element of fear attached to his name – and in the crux of his victory, lay not Star’s weaknesses…but Marco’s. It had been his own personal inability, his own fragility, that had forced Star to relinquish, even temporarily, the channel of her power. His life had been the one at stake, and yet it’d been Star who’d been forced to burn…not because she’d been unable to handle the danger, but because Marco had gone and forgotten to play it safe. He’d stopped locking his windows _just in case_ , he’d stopped closing the blinds over his windows, had started running with scissors and forgetting to put his helmet on when riding a bike.

And there, with his face pressed against the glass, he’d come to know the true meaning of his helplessness. It wasn’t _his_ life in danger, not really. No, at the core, it was Star who would bear the weight of his slack, who would constantly have to fight twice as hard and give up twice as much in order to support him – he was a liability.

Perhaps that was why he’d put such an emphasis on moving up in his karate, like a single belt higher could make up for his burden _._ As though the color red would burn brighter than his green had allowed him to. The faulty logic of sporting the color of passion and power instead of the fresh vibrancy of _youth_ and _greed_ didn’t sustain him though.

Instead, he woke up, _again_ , to the feeling of his chest collapsing in on itself, the sensation of being _crushed_ beneath the weight of the glass…only the transparent prison would slowly morph into just himself, large and heavy as his ribs would give, caving in on – and it wouldn’t be him, but Star, blonde hair splayed and eyes wide with betrayal as Marco’s own presence pushed the life from her eyes and stained her clothes crimson, even as his too-large form would make a show of trying to move from off of her. But all the same he’d feel her, her heat, ebb into the floor he’d smashed her against, taking his place in death and _stillness,_ something that Star should never be a part of.

Marco gasped, launching forward from his bed, hands outstretched as though he could shove himself off of Star, could try and save the girl who’s only weakness was her care for him. However, he found his hands meeting not the overly large Marco, or even pushing through the blanket of darkness that filled his room…but instead, he felt both hands be swallowed by much tinier ones, pale in the moonlight that sank through the window.

Gasping, he jerked back, sleep and surprise clouding his reaction into panic as he tried to escape the weight he’d noticed so suddenly on his chest, hands reeling from the smaller ones and instead pushing against the flat of his mattress to and escape –

“…Star?” he asked, his tone mostly breath as he managed to piece together the weight on his chest, Star’s presence, and the fact that he’d just pressed himself against his headboard rather than stay beneath her. She stared at him, mouth tugged into a frown and sun-stained hair trapped beneath her sleep mask so that her blue eyes were clearly visible…and worried. Which, figured. Of course she’d be worried about him.

Knees dug in on either side of him moved over, and Start slung her form around so that she was sitting next to him, though he scooted over further so that the bed was equally split between them – him with his elbows propping him up, and her slowly letting her legs bunch up to her chest, where her arms surrounded them and held them still so her chin could perch onto her knees.

“Star, you okay?” he asked, swallowing so his voice didn’t come out as ragged as it had the first time. Because if he was going to have to be frightened in front of her, going to flaunt his breakability, then at the very least he could offer an ear…even if she did come before the sun.

“You were having a nightmare,” she said simply, her voice surprisingly soft as she fastened her eyes to the wall in front of them.

Marco swallowed, pushing his face into a forced frown, “But nightmares aren’t real, right?” he asked pleasantly…even though he knew that his dreams had been _very_ real, if more symbolic than tangible.

“Maybe not when you’re sleeping,” she admitted, but she didn’t sound convinced before she shot him an almost accusatory look, “Is this because of Toffee?” she asked, and like everything with Star, the tone was sudden and intense.

So much so, that Marco startled, his eyes going wide, “Wh-What? Why’d – how’d – what made you say that?” he stuttered, his tongue tripping gracelessly over his words, painfully aware of just how focused Star could be when she was interested in paying attention its dues.

Fiery blue eyes turned cold with worry, then frosted over with hurt, “This has been happening since we blew up Ludo’s castle – and Marco, that was like, a week ago.”

“So?” Marco retorted defensively, “Maybe it’s just a coincidence!”

“Is it?” she asked, her eyes becoming narrow, “Then let’s go on an adventure. Right now.”

“Huh?” Marco looked to his clock, then to the window, “Star, it’s three in the morning.”

“It’s the weekend,” she pressed and she turned to face him, slim eyes widening with…was that hope? Concern? Some strange mixture of the two…?

“Star…” the brunette trailed before sighing, “Look, not today, okay?” _Not until I can take care of myself. Even if that means never again._

“I _knew_ it!” she cried suddenly, withdrawing from him altogether, off the bed, her feet landing with a certain _kind_ of finality, one that had been building within her until it crashed against the wood panels of Marco’s floor. Marco stared at her, mouth slightly agape in two breeds of confusion – the first being why she was upset, and the second how he’d failed to notice.

“Knew what?” he asked, his voice betraying how befuddlement.

How puzzled he seemed served only to infuriate Star more, apparently, as she didn’t even try and storm off to let him figure it out for himself. Instead, she went for the direct approach, her lips briefly thinning as she pursed them, weighing how she’d confront the issue, before she seemed to scrap _consideration_ in favor of being honest, “You don’t trust me anymore!”

                The anger, the _venom_ in the tone was so unexpected, so full of _hurt_ that Marco almost didn’t register it, much like pain that could only be processed as _brilliance._ His mouth fell open, and he felt his head shaking almost religiously as he forced himself to sit up straighter, “Star, no – that’s not…no, of course I trust you,” he assured her, almost desperately.

                She didn’t have any of it, “Oh _really_?” she asked, arms crossing over her chest defiantly, “Then why don’t you come with me anymore? And you wanted a red belt _so_ bad – like you’re the only one who can watch out for you, like you’re the only one who-”

                “Because it’s _my fault,_ ” Marco broke in, his mouth moving before his mind could slam it shut – and those words were the key, the brink of the damn as it shattered, allowing a flow of words to assault the air in Star’s stunned silence, “You shouldn’t _have_ to watch over me, shouldn’t _need_ to – you’re this crazy-powerful princess with amazing magic and-and…I’m just some _guy_ , Star!” he sucked out a breath, trying to repress the warmth that flooded his cheeks and the salt that stung his eyes, “Toffee didn’t defeat _you_. He beat _me_ , he captured _me_ , he used _me_ to _get you_ ,” he didn’t realize how much anger had seeped through his words, and the blank surprise in Star’s face seemed evidence that she knew none of it was aimed at her.

                He swallowed, sudden embarrassment eating his resolve, “I trust you, Star. I trust you so much that I think we both forgot that…that I’m not like you. And you can’t afford to come swooping in to save me.”

                The air in his room was oh so quiet, and tense. As if he would have tried to breath, he might have shattered everything inside. So, instead, he waited, not moving an inch as Star looked him over, blue eyes going through several stages of shock, then confusion, then – he didn’t even have time to dodge the anger, the punch that was sent hurtling into his arm.

                He yelped in surprise, his free hand jumping to shield his recently assaulted appendage before he glanced back to Star, caught off guard. Before he could ask her _what the heck_ that was for, she moved forward, fast, grabbing onto the collars of his pajamas so she could pull him in closer, glaring down at him.

                “Who helped me take down St. Olgas?” she asked sternly.

                “Star, that’s not the point-”

                “Who helped me fix time?” she asked again, cutting him off.

                “Star-”

                “Who has stuck with me against Ludo, helped me with my night terrors, and always tried to help – even if it was totally not needed with Tom?” she asked, before pausing, “And, if not needed, inspired because they cared what _I_ wanted?”

                Marco frowned, looking away from her as best he could without jerking out of her grip, “Star, those things don’t count; they aren’t the same as taking down baddies or altering reality or anything like that. Anyone could do what I do,” he admitted dejectedly.

                “Not Ponyhead. Not Tom. Not Tiffany,” she said forcefully, “If they could, I’d be hanging out with _them_ – but I’m not.”

                “You should be, though!” Marco replied with equal force, this time looking back at her with a glare of his own, “They could keep you safe, they could-”

                “But I don’t _want_ to be kept safe!” she interrupted, “I don’t want someone who’ll ‘be my hero’ by telling me what to do. I don’t _need_ a knight in shining armor…I need a friend, Marco. I need someone who’ll go with me, not chain me up,” she said, Marco paused, taking in her expression, her curved brows and sad eyes, her mouth drawn downward and her tone laced with longing.

                “I-I don’t want to hold you back, though,” he murmured, “I don’t want you to be in danger because of me.”

                “I’ll get into trouble with or without you, though, Marco,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face in spite of the melancholy that ghosted the action, “I’d just rather it be _with_ you.”

                “But if Toffee hadn’t kidnapped me, you would have never had to lose your wand,”

“And without you, I’d be locked up in some reform school learning that knives go on the left side of the plate. Or I’d be under house arrest on Mewnie. Anything, boring, really.”

Marco remained silent, eyes closing as the image of him crushing Star invaded his mind once more, though he pushed the thought out of his head with careful consideration before he let out a deep breath and nodded slowly. The action caused a small smile to bloom over Star’s expression, and her eyes picked up light that they’d lost up until then.

“Fine,” he accepted slowly before meeting her gaze, “But I still want to get better. I don’t want you to have to be my hero more than you want me to be yours,” he smiled, mirroring her meager grin.

Though hers was quick to grow as she leaned forward, her arms enveloping his body.

Marco hugged her back.

And suddenly the world seemed just as dangerous as it ever had. Only this time, he felt ready for it.


End file.
